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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262790">Introduction to Competitive Flirtation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingAtTheSky/pseuds/ScreamingAtTheSky'>ScreamingAtTheSky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:27:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingAtTheSky/pseuds/ScreamingAtTheSky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I was watching the season 3 episode "Studies in Modern Movement" and I was super inspired by it in a lot of ways. First of all, if you watch that episode and don't see how clear it is that Jeff/Britta and Abed/Troy/Annie belong together, I don't really know what to say! The way Britta instantly knows Jeff is lying about being sick and even calls out that he's shopping, and then the way they're watching the shadow puppet theatre together at the end, just perfection. And the way Troy and Abed go out of their way to ensure Annie feels welcome and how desperately they want her to live with them, and the way she opens up to them about her feelings, so beautiful. All that being said, it is one of my favorite episodes and it gave me the idea for this fic!</p><p>This story takes place immediately after the episode. Britta convinces Jeff to apologize for lying to all of them by taking them out for drinks that night at The Rusty Bucket. Of course, only Britta and Jeff can attend, and he suggests a healthy competition between the two of them that leads to more!</p><p>This was supposed to be a quick story based on an idea I couldn't get out of my head, and it turned into 3 chapters. But that's just where I'm at right now. Enjoy!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Britta Perry/Jeff Winger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. So It Begins...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He tweeted it!” Jeff throws his head back and shouts to the heavens as Britta and the rest of the study group converge around him.</p>
<p>The early evening light comes in through the one window in Annie’s newly decorated bedroom – she’s the newest occupant of Troy and Abed’s apartment. The study group (minus Jeff) spent the day moving her in.</p>
<p>“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Annie looks at all her friends as they continue to sing in Jeff’s face. “Why are we singing?”</p>
<p>“Jeff didn’t just lie about being sick, Annie. He spent the <i> whole</i> day at the mall with the dean,” Britta says, once the group has quieted down and Jeff looks sufficiently embarrassed.</p>
<p>“Uh, I was not <i>with</i> the dean. I was at the mall alone. He followed me there. There’s a difference.” Jeff looks at Britta with wide eyes, desperate to convince her of his innocence.</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes. “Oh, whatever. You sang karaoke together.” </p>
<p>She crosses her arms and continues to leer at Jeff. She is upset about his behavior. Not just the lying, although that wasn’t great, but with the fact that he went through <i>so</i> much trouble and created such an elaborate ruse just to fool her. He’d not only faked an illness; he’d faked heart monitors and had someone page fake doctors. He’d put more effort into convincing her to believe his lie than he would have had to put into moving any boxes. It felt like such a step back for him.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Annie, you gotta see it, it’s hilarious. Look!” Troy presses some buttons on his phone and hands it to Annie, who watches, wide-eyed. Abed closes his eyes and hums along to the song as the video plays.</p>
<p>“Oh, come on, how’d he get a video? He didn’t have his phone out and it was just the two of us in the room.” Jeff hangs his head. Britta can tell he knows spending the day with the dean had been a huge mistake. They would never let him live this duet down.</p>
<p>“Sounds perfect for you then,” Pierce jokes. Britta purposely turns her head away from him and no one responds, his homophobic humor growing more and more tiresome each day.<br/>
Abed points to Troy’s phone while looking at Jeff. “According to this tweet, he paid the manager at the karaoke place to get their security footage.”</p>
<p>“Oh my,” Shirley says, holding her hand to her chest. The two of them had been through so much today in their discussion about religion and morality, and strange rides with psycho hitchhikers, that Britta decides <i>not</i> to roll her eyes at Shirley’s dramatic response.</p>
<p>Annie shoots Jeff a disapproving glance. “Jeff, I can’t believe you hung out with the dean instead of us, just so you didn’t have to help move a few boxes.”</p>
<p>Annie can be condescending, but in this case, Britta is inclined to agree with her. “Yeah, pretty messed up Jeff, even for you.” She turns her body toward him as the rest of the study group members glare at him in anger.</p>
<p>Jeff looks around at all of them, aghast, focusing on Britta last and directing his questions mainly at her. “You’re all still mad at <i>me</i>? Nobody is concerned that the dean forced me to hang out with him against my will and then shared a video of me without my knowledge?”</p>
<p>“No!” They all shout in unison.</p>
<p>“Hm, tough crowd,” Jeff deadpans.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you lied to us, Jeffrey. We thought you were really sick. I said a prayer that you would feel better soon and that the Lord wouldn’t hold your promiscuous ways against you while deciding your fate.” Shirley bats her lashes at Jeff while she says this.</p>
<p>“Thank...you?” Jeff’s voice turns up at the end and he scrunches his face. None of them are ever quite sure how to respond to Shirley’s thinly veiled put downs wrapped in kindness. Apparently, he’s chosen correctly this time as she nods at him in acceptance.</p>
<p>“And Abed and I had to carry so many more boxes because you weren’t here.” Troy places a reassuring hand on Abed’s shoulder as he nods in indignation.</p>
<p>Annie rolls her eyes. “Oh please, <i>I</i> carried more boxes than either of you. You two were too busy playing with the bubble wrap.”</p>
<p>“What about me? I had to play piano with those hula dancers since you all abandoned me in that smelly old apartment.” Pierce stares at the group in anger, while they all look back at him, confused, except Annie.</p>
<p>“What?” Jeff asks, speaking on all of their behalf.</p>
<p>“Pierce tried to help fix an outlet in my apartment then spilled paint all over the floor and got high on fumes. We’re lucky he’s alive.” Annie gives Pierce a quick pat on the back.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s debatable.” Jeff puts down the drinks he’d brought as a means of apology for not helping and shoots a quick wave at the group. “So, it seems like you’ve all got this under control now then. Think I’ll get going.”</p>
<p>“What? Why?” Absolutely not, Britta thinks to herself. Knowing Annie, this room has not been set up to her satisfaction and she’s one second away from flashing the Disney face at all of them and convincing them to help her rearrange it. Britta will be damned if Jeff abandons them <i>twice</i> today.</p>
<p>“If you must know, Nosy O’Donnell, I’m tired.” Jeff leans down to look right into Britta’s eyes. He always tries to use this intimidation tactic with her, but it rarely works. She’s not really one to back down from anything.</p>
<p>“Tired from what?” The bite of her words lets him know for certain that his attempt at being imposing has no effect on her fiery spirit. “Trying on fitted blazers? Or hitting all those high notes with the dean?”</p>
<p>“Have you ever tried harmonizing with another man to Seal’s ‘Kiss From a Rose,’ Britta? Because it’s <i>not</i> easy.” The sincerity behind his comment is almost enough to make her laugh. Almost being the key word. She can’t allow him to make jokes or be ridiculous and take everyone’s mind off the issue at hand here – which, mainly, is that she was right!</p>
<p>“Oh, is it harder than <i>lying</i> to your friends? <i>I</i> knew you were full of crap all along. Your sick voice was ridiculous. And that fake hospital didn’t even sound convincing. And I would know. I volunteered at hospitals all the time when I lived in New York.” She sits down on Annie’s new bed and folds her arms across her chest, quite pleased with her accurate assessment.</p>
<p>Jeff shoots her one of his patented looks – frustration meets sex appeal. “You need a hand patting yourself on the back, Britta?”</p>
<p>She’s about to let him really have it when Abed cuts in. “She’s right Jeff. It’s weird that you didn’t see this coming. Misleading your friends as a means to get out of manual labor resulting in your near-immediate comeuppance? The movie practically writes itself.”</p>
<p>Britta holds her head in her hands – she should have known her friend would be too focused on the movie-ness of it all to be concerned with the actual issue of Jeff lying to all of them about it.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I really should be able to predict these things by now. Can’t believe I haven’t developed a <i>sixth sense</i>.” Jeff hits the last two words hard, clearly trying to draw Abed’s attention even more by naming one of the most famous movies of all time – even Britta has heard of it. She’s never seen it, of course. It’s such a pop culture staple, she’s positive it can’t actually be that great. Nothing mainstream ever is.</p>
<p>Troy perks up. “If I could have a sixth sense, I’d want it to be <i>smasting</i>. That’s when you can smell and taste something at the same time.”</p>
<p>Britta smiles at Troy – he’s so silly and fun, always thinking of a new game or activity. He helps her feel lighter, happier, when she needs it the most. She’d actually even looked at him as more than friends on occasion, but she’s pretty sure he’s in love with Abed, even if he’s not quite ready to admit it yet himself. Being an ally, when he <i>is</i> ready to come out, she hopes she’s the first one there, supporting him as he embarks on each new adventure. </p>
<p>Annie looks at Troy in confusion and asks, “Can’t you always smell what you’re tasting?”</p>
<p>Troy looks at all of them as if Annie has just asked something absurd. “Yeah, sure Annie, next you’ll tell me I can sing and walk at the same time, too.”</p>
<p>Annie attempts to cut in, “Uh—" but Jeff stops her by resting a hand on her arm and whispering, “It’s a losing battle.”</p>
<p>Britta realizes that that’s not the only battle being lost right now. No one is remaining focused on the fact that Jeff lied to her. Them. Whatever. “Anyway, I was <i>trying</i> to say you should apologize for lying to us, Jeff. Or better yet, find a way to make it right.” Her eyes widen and she claps her hands together one time, a brilliant idea popping into her brain just in the nick of time. “You should take us all out for drinks! How about The Rusty Bucket? We could all meet there at 8.”</p>
<p>Jeff gives her a face that makes it look as if he’s smelled spoiled milk. “Eight o’clock? Britta, it’s 5:30 now. Why so late?”</p>
<p>“Well <i>some</i> of us have to shower, you know, because of all the manual labor we did today.” She smirks at him.</p>
<p>Before Jeff can volley back, Pierce cuts him off to say, “Jeff knows all about labor. Because he’s a woman.” He looks at Shirley and shrugs, as if his comment is beyond his control somehow. “I felt like I hadn’t spoken in a while.”</p>
<p>Jeff ignores Pierce, as usual, and turns to Britta directly. “Fine. I messed up, alright? Are you ever going to let this go?”</p>
<p>She can see genuine regret on his face. Most likely, it’s from allowing himself to get caught, but she knows that a part of him feels guilty about tricking them. And that means she has him right where she wants him. Now she just has to get everyone else on board. “Guess we’ll find out tonight.” </p>
<p>She shrugs and turns to the group. She knows she has to be convincing, especially since the last time they’d gone out drinking – a misguided attempt to celebrate Troy’s 21st birthday – had gone so badly. “Come on guys!  Let’s let Jeff take us out! It’ll be so fun - and we deserve it! Shirley?”</p>
<p>Shirley gives Britta a small smile. “Oooh that sounds nice, but I have to be home with my boys tonight. Andre is working late at the stereo store. He says it’s just a matter of time before they get popular again and he has to be prepared.” Her voice drops an octave. “I’m not holding my breath.”</p>
<p>Troy’s eyes widen and he turns to Abed. “Hey, want to spend all night pretending we live in an underwater kingdom and timing each other to see how long we can hold our breath?”</p>
<p>“You know it,” Abed responds contentedly.</p>
<p>Troy and Abed do their special best friend handshake like they always do when one of them has what they think is an amazing idea. Troy then turns to Britta. “Sorry Britta, Abed and I have plans tonight. We’re...cleaning...stuff.”</p>
<p>Britta rolls her eyes at them – Troy is never able to think of an excuse on the fly – and turns to Annie instead. She still isn’t 21, but Britta knows she still has the fake ID she’d gotten for her the last time – Caroline Decker from Corpus Christi, Texas. What a nightmare <i>that</i> had been for all involved, but Britta was getting desperate and beggars should be pro-choice, or whatever that expression is. “Annie, how about you?”</p>
<p>Annie flashes Britta a big smile. “Oh, I wish I could Britta, but I need to reorganize this whole room. It was so nice of you guys to put everything away for me, but, honestly, nothing’s in the right place and it’s driving me nuts. I’m barely listening to any of you.”</p>
<p>Britta can’t help but give herself a little internal cheer for how right she’s been about everything today – Britta for the win! “Wow. Ok, Pierce, whadda ya say? You’re always up for a good time.” </p>
<p>Yup, desperate didn’t even begin to describe it.</p>
<p>“Why, yes, I am, Britta. And I <i>will</i> be having a very good time tonight with my lady friend.” Pierce looks around at the group, imploring any one of them ask him about his mystery date.</p>
<p>In unison, Annie and Shirley say, “Ooooohhhh” and smile at each other and then at Pierce.</p>
<p>Jeff is not quite as naive as them, so he flashes Britta a look that she mirrors and asks, “My Lady Friend – is that the name of your new blow up doll?”</p>
<p>“As usual, Jeff, you couldn’t be more wrong. Celeste is smart and beautiful and real.”</p>
<p>Jeff looks pointedly at Britta as he stage-whispers, “Here comes the catch.”</p>
<p>“Of course, her work visa application hasn’t <i>quite</i> been approved yet...” Pierce lets his sentence trail off, no explanation needed or wanted by the rest of the group.</p>
<p>“There it is.” Jeff says to Britta as she rises from the bed and crosses the room to stand right in front of him.</p>
<p>“Well, I guess it’s just you and me then, Winger. You can buy me drinks all night to make amends with the group. You in?”</p>
<p>Jeff pretends to give this some thought, but she can already feel his negative energy coming through. “Hm. Drinking all night with a woman whose drinks I’m paying for but <i>won’t</i> be sleeping with me at the end of it? Pass.”</p>
<p>Britta’s shoulders slump and she frowns. She’s not sure why, but she’d really been looking forward to a night out. Their junior year <i>had</i> gotten off to a rocky start - Jeff attacked the study room table with an axe, they’d had to work on a Biology project with <i>Todd</i>, her psych evaluation indicated that six out of the seven of them had the potential to be homicidal maniacs, and Pierce’s dad died. </p>
<p>Ok, maybe she had <i>some</i> idea why she needed this night out.</p>
<p>She looks up to see Jeff staring at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. She’s not sure what is going on in his head, but before she can ask him, he’s speaking again. “Although, I do need an excuse to wear some of the clothes I got at the mall today. It would be a disservice not to show off how good I look in my new jeans.” </p>
<p>Britta claps delightedly – she doesn’t know what made him change his mind, but she’s happy he did. </p>
<p>“Fine. Rusty Bucket.” Jeff points a finger at her, “But you better not get sloppy, Britta. I’m not babysitting you all night.”</p>
<p>She’s grateful to him for agreeing to come out, but she can’t help but scoff. “Like anyone would trust <i>you</i> to take care of a baby.”</p>
<p>“Oh, and you’re a pillar of responsibility?”</p>
<p>“More responsible than you. I keep <i>cats</i> alive, Jeff. The only thing you’ve ever cared for is yourself.”</p>
<p>Jeff runs his hand down his face and body before responding. “Yeah, but look how good I’m doing,” he says, suggestively.</p>
<p>Annie interjects in a singsong voice, “Ok, well, some of us have work to get to, so you two have fun. And Britta, be careful – you know how you get when you drink too much. You don’t want to make any of your usual bad decisions.”</p>
<p>Shirley rests a hand on Britta’s shoulder. “Yes. Remember, the Lord is always watching,” she says, pointing skyward.</p>
<p>“Oh, relax you guys, it’s just drinks with Jeff.” She jabs her thumb at him. “What’s the worst that could happen?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ...The Greatest Relationship...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some pretty classic Jeff/Britta banter in this chapter (at least my silly attempt at it), but some real emotion, too!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Britta breezes through the large wooden door of The Rusty Bucket and scrunches her nose at the musty smell of smoke wafting through the air. It’s amazing how almost as soon as she’d quit smoking, the smell of cigarettes started making her sick to her stomach. Hard to believe she used to crave them all the time. Lately, she’s been craving something a little different.</p>
<p>She scans the dimly lit bar, looking for Jeff, but also taking in the other clientele. It had been a pretty long time since Britta had been with anyone, and a crowded bar on a Saturday night seemed just as good a place as any to meet someone. Actually, anywhere other than a kooky community college seemed like a great place to her – she loved the study group, they were the best friends she’d ever had, but their group was getting a little <i>too</i> close for her comfort. The point is, it might be nice to find some fresh meat. Unfortunately, all she’s seeing at this place is a lot of men in their mid-to-upper fifties and a lot of women who look dangerously close to underage. Until she notices the bartender. His tight black t-shirt, tan skin, and wide smile are just what the one-day-will-be-a doctor ordered.</p>
<p>She sidles up to the bar and catches his eye almost immediately. She peers at him through hooded lashes and gives him a coy smile. Shirley might not be great at playing coy, but Britta could whip it out when the moment called for it. And this moment <i>definitely</i> called for it.</p>
<p>“Busy night,” she coos, leaning her elbow on the bar and placing her hand in her chin.</p>
<p>“Yeah, even for a Saturday.” His voice is deep and silky, like melting chocolate. He flashes her a flirtatious smile, his dark brown eyes twinkling. “Guess everyone heard <i>you</i> were gonna be here.”</p>
<p>A line. Pretty typical, and not very original, but that does not mean it’s unwelcome. “Sha,” she scoffs, and blushes. “Thanks…” her voice trails off and she widens her eyes, in hopes that he’ll give her his name.</p>
<p>“Gavin,” he says, offering his name and his hand for her to shake. She’s not sure how sanitary that choice is, considering he’s working in the food and drink industry, but she decides to bite her tongue on an issue for once.</p>
<p>“Britta,” she says, reveling in the contrast of his soft hands and firm grip.</p>
<p>“That’s a lovely name,” he says, holding on to her hand for just a second longer than what is probably considered appropriate, but she’s not complaining. “So, Britta, what can I get for you?”</p>
<p>Gavin is basically ignoring all his other customers at the moment and, man, when you’re constantly surrounded by six other adorable misfits who are all saddled with their own hang-ups and personal problems all the time, does it feel good to come <i>first</i> for a change. She hasn’t put herself first in years, but somebody should, damnit.</p>
<p>She can definitely think of some things she’d like to get from Gavin, a drink actually not being one of them, and she’s considering saying something to that effect when a deep voice directly to her right says, “She’ll have a vodka neat, four olives.”</p>
<p>Of course, <i>he’d</i> have to swoop in right now and ruin this potential moment she had going with Gavin. Was she going to marry the guy? Absolutely not. It’s an antiquated gender ritual created by men to ensure and legalize the ownership of women. But she could have hit it off with Mr. Right Now. She certainly could have gone home with him tonight. Or at least gotten his number. No chance of that happening now though. Not when Jeff was here, sure to be demanding all her attention and energy, like always. Why did he have to show up here, anyway?</p>
<p>Oh. That’s right. She suggested it. Insisted, actually. You know, her need for justice could be a real buzzkill sometimes.</p>
<p>She stares at Jeff out of the corner of her eye, barely wanting to acknowledge his presence. He is leaning his back against the bar, too cool to even be bothered to stand up straight, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his long arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing what she can only assume is a new pair of jeans and a dark grey button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is mussed just so and his smile is accented by the stubble growing along his jawline and lips. He stands in complete opposition to Gavin, but he looks really good. Fuck.</p>
<p>She leans her body into the bar and turns to face him. He turns his head to look in her direction. “And what if I was in the mood for something else tonight?”</p>
<p>“Are you?”</p>
<p>After a beat of staring at each other, she rolls her eyes and turns back to Gavin. “Vodka neat, four olives.”</p>
<p>The subtext is so glaring, it might as well just be actual text, but there is no part of her that can even pretend that, when given the choice between him and someone else, she wouldn’t choose Jeff every time.</p>
<p>Gavin shoots her a suspicious and somewhat disappointed glance, probably tired of being used as a pawn in couple’s chess matches, as he makes Britta’s drink and slides it across the bar to her. She starts to reach into her purse to pay, already forgetting that their whole purpose for meeting up tonight was so he could atone for his sins by buying drinks, when he stills her with a gentle hand on her forearm. “Put it on my tab. The card is under Winger,” he directs his words to Gavin, but his eyes never leave Britta’s face. She has to look away from the intensity of his gaze.</p>
<p>“Come on, I have a table for us in the back,” he whispers in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.</p>
<p>She lets herself be led to a small, round table in a quieter corner of the bar by his hand on the small of her back, his fingers pressing into the exposed skin between her jeans and black leather jacket. She’s an independent woman, all day every day, but there is something about the pressure of Jeff’s hand on her skin that she imagines will always bring her comfort, ground her in some unexplainable way, and electrify her at the same time. The last two years since meeting him had certainly been an adventure, a roller coaster, made immeasurably better by the fact that they were riding it together. She’d spent most of this crazy time with him by her side, often with his hands on her in some way – whether simple grazes to draw her attention back to him, or passionate grabs to keep her locked in and maybe never get away. No matter what they were doing, or as the case may be recently, <i>not</i> doing, his presence always brought the calming sense of familiarity mixed with the enticing promise of chemistry, and she is confident it will always be this way between them.</p>
<p>“So, Winger, how’d you snag this VIP table?” She raises her brows at him. She’d been to The Rusty Bucket several times but had never been seated back here. Of course, she preferred a much closer proximity to the alcohol, so that might be why, but if she’s being honest, she didn’t even know this place <i>had</i> tables.</p>
<p>“I used to date the owner,” Jeff says, with a smirk. </p>
<p>Of course, he did.</p>
<p>“<i>Of course</i>, you did.”</p>
<p>She always has been one to speak her mind.</p>
<p>“Speaking of dating, what was that?” Jeff gestures in the direction of the bar.</p>
<p>They sit across from each other at the table, the soft glow of the dimmed lights bringing out the blue of Jeff’s eyes in a way she hadn’t noticed in some time. Or maybe just hadn’t <i>allowed</i> herself to notice. He really is as beautiful as he thinks he is – the hard part is making sure he never knows she thinks that.</p>
<p>“What was what?” She narrows her eyes at him, already on the defensive, because it seems he always has <i>something</i> to say about <i>anything</i> she does.</p>
<p>“That shit with the bartender.”</p>
<p>“Ordering my drink?”</p>
<p>“Please. You were practically salivating.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be gross.”</p>
<p>He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”</p>
<p>“Am I going to have to deal with this all night?”</p>
<p>“Only if you keep throwing yourself at every guy who smiles at you.”</p>
<p>“Are you <i>jealous</i>, Jeff?” It feels so good to hold power over him sometimes. It’s either a drug that doesn’t hurt you, or the most dangerous drug of all. She’s still undecided as to which.</p>
<p>He scoffs. “Hardly. I just expect to be treated properly when I’ve been <i>coerced</i> into taking you out for drinks.”</p>
<p>His words say one thing, but when she looks into his eyes, they say another. They say he cares quite a bit. As he leans back in his chair and stares into her eyes, he looks…hungry. She hasn’t been on the receiving end of a look like this from him in quite a bit, and she’s a little surprised to note the immediate warmth she feels spreading through her entire body.</p>
<p>She leans forward in her chair to counteract his position. “So how would you prefer I treat you?”</p>
<p>She sends a seductive smirk his way – he’s not the only one with <i>looks</i>, after all. Britta’s been in this game a long time, not just with Jeff, but with lots of guys, so if anyone feels right at home in moments like this, it’s her. Guys try to be all sexy and dangerous and it works, sure, especially when they’re tall and charming and damaged, but as soon as you turn some of that energy back onto them, they falter, as if totally flabbergasted that a <i>woman</i> can be capable of such bravado. She’ll never forget the look on Jeff’s face at the beginning of last year when he’d expressed his love for her in front of their whole Anthropology class. When he asked if she loved him too, she’d defiantly responded, “More than anything in the world,” and he’d been so thrown off by her reply that, for one split second, she saw a glaring crack form in that patented Jeff Winger armor. Of course, shortly after that they started having secret sex pretty much every chance they got, so apparently her armor wasn’t all that impermeable either, but it had still been fun beating him at his own game.</p>
<p>Jeff’s eyes widen at her for a split second and he clears his throat before settling back into his usual look of seductive indifference.</p>
<p>“I’ll get back to you on that, Britta. So many possibilities.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” she says, nodding. She sits back in her chair, pretending to peruse the drink menu, but really, she’s barely touched her vodka and just needs something to take her mind off all the possibilities running through her head right now. This night has really taken an unexpected turn – here she’d thought she’d have a pleasant Saturday. Help Annie move, go out for drinks with a friend, inspire Jeff to make up for his dishonesty, and maybe meet a guy in the process. But it seems that Jeff has something else in mind for them tonight – the secluded table, the flirting, the eye contact. Unless she’s reading all this all wrong? She hadn’t really considered anything happening with Jeff tonight, but was she opposed to it?</p>
<p>She peeks at him from behind her menu, watches as he stares intently at his drink and swirls the scotch around in his glass before bringing it to his lips and taking a swig, closing his eyes as he enjoys feeling it glide down his throat and settle into his belly.</p>
<p>Nope. Not opposed at all.</p>
<p>She closes the drink menu and places it on the table, fixing Jeff with one of her analytical stares. She is determined not to be railroaded by his intensity and disarming good looks because that’s exactly what he wants.</p>
<p>“So, feeling sorry for your discretions yet?”</p>
<p>“Sorry? Not really. But you <i>do</i> look like you’re about to lecture me again, so that might change.” </p>
<p>Instead of looking angry or frustrated with her, his eyes fall and he looks…somewhat defeated. This is not quite what she was expecting.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to lecture you, Jeff. I’m worried about you.”</p>
<p>“Dial it back, Freud. I lied to get out of doing work. Seems pretty on brand for me, wouldn’t you say?”</p>
<p>“Yes. But choosing to not spend the day with your friends doesn’t. Plus, you lied to <i>me</i>, Jeff. We don’t lie to each other. Only ourselves. Isn’t that the rule?”</p>
<p>She offers him a forgiving smile. She needs him to know she’s not angry anymore, but she <i>is</i> concerned. Jeff hadn’t acted like this in quite a while, and if he needed someone to talk to, she’d be there for him. She <i>is</i> officially a Psych major now.</p>
<p>Jeff sighs, his resolve with her not what it used to be, and she can actually see his resistance melting away as he begins to open up. She thinks they’ve gotten to a point in their relationship now where he knows he’s going to open up to her eventually, so why fight it? She holds it as a point of pride that she’s been able to chip away slowly but surely at the shield he uses to protect himself. And the group thinks she won’t be a good therapist. Sha.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Britta. I just…felt like being alone. Is that allowed?” Sarcasm drips off his words – his last-ditch attempt at keeping up the façade that he’s not completely vulnerable with her.</p>
<p>“Of course that’s allowed. But then just tell us that. Why lie?”</p>
<p>Likely frustrated with her questioning, he responds quickly. “Because sometimes I worry that you have too much power over me, ok?”</p>
<p>His words come out in one breath, so she knows they’re true.</p>
<p>“Me?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Too much honesty. She can see him pull back. “No. All of you – the group. You’ve all become such a big part of my life and sometimes I get scared that we’re all too reliant on each other. But I don’t want to say that and hurt your feelings, so I lie. I pretend to be sick or at a party or on a date, so I don’t have to tell anyone the truth.”</p>
<p>“Wow. Jeff, I…”</p>
<p>She’s unsure of how to respond, so her voice trails off. His admission is so heavy that <i>she</i> feels spent. Almost inconceivably, this night has taken yet <i>another</i> turn.</p>
<p>He gazes at the floor, seemingly too uncomfortable to meet her eyes. “Britta, it’s not a <i>thing</i>. Can we just let it go now, please?”</p>
<p>He looks at her, and she can almost feel her own heart break at the look in his eyes. He is so beautiful, so sexy, and yet, so broken – she can’t help but be drawn to him. In so many ways, he’s an injured bird, and a part of her will always want to mend his broken wings until he can fly again, even if it means one day, he’ll fly away from her.</p>
<p>“We sure can, Sean Penn.” She keeps her tone light and her words make him smile, and she feels like she’s won some sort of prize. “But can I just say one more little thing first?”</p>
<p>She holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart and he rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“Doubtful. But go ahead.”</p>
<p>“I <i>knew</i> you were lying about going on all those dates.”</p>
<p>There is an almost imperceptible shift in the energy between them again. The two of them are a roller coaster, but what would be the point in lying about how much she enjoys the ride?</p>
<p>“Are <i>you</i> jealous, Britta?”</p>
<p>She scoffs. “You wish.”</p>
<p>She can only hope that he hasn’t figured out that’s her code for yes.</p>
<p>“Please. Like you haven’t noticed every woman who’s undressed me with her eyes tonight.”</p>
<p>This makes her really laugh, but truthfully, of course women in here were looking at Jeff all night. Plenty of guys, too. And she can’t blame any of them. He’s the tallest man she’s ever met in real life, his body looks like it was carved from marble, and he has the kind of face that you never get sick of looking at – if she cared about any of that kind of stuff. “You mean all <i>one</i> of them?”</p>
<p>He raises his eyebrows and points at her. “So you were looking.”</p>
<p>She turns away because she has to. Her narrowed eyes exaggeratedly search the room as she says, “Textbook narcissist. Sorry to disappoint you, Jeff, but I don’t see any eyes on you right now.”</p>
<p>She turns back to him.</p>
<p>“Except yours.” He looks at her pointedly.</p>
<p>“Yes, well, I know how to engage in polite conversation.” She gives him a smug smirk. “And speaking of polite conversation, there’s a guy over there I may have to go talk to later.”</p>
<p>Over Jeff’s left shoulder, she can see a man sitting alone at a nearby table. She offers him a flirtatious wave, the kind she usually reserves for when she’s making fun of that cutesy stuff that Annie does. The guy is nowhere near as handsome as Jeff, but he seems nice enough and waves back at her immediately.</p>
<p>Jeff narrows his eyes at her suspiciously. “That guy’s not better looking than me.”</p>
<p>Her mouth drops open. “You can’t even see him!”</p>
<p>“I don’t have to.”</p>
<p>They say nothing is sexier than confidence and sometimes Britta blanches at that statement – how about compassion? loyalty? activism? – but this is one of those times when she has to admit that Jeff <i>is</i> pretty irresistible. But, of course, she can’t let him know how attractive she finds him. That would mean admitting something real, and real just means ammo that Jeff can use against her later.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Winger, this guy’s <i>pretty</i> easy on the eyes.” She continues to stare just past Jeff, at the stranger. She enjoys watching the veins in his neck pulse. She laughs internally at how badly he wants to turn around. Instead, he keeps his gaze fixed on her and leans one elbow on the back of his chair. His body language says, “too cool to care,” but she <i>knows</i>.</p>
<p>“I know what you’re doing, Britta,”</p>
<p>“Hm?” She looks at him innocently, but there’s a glint in his eye that she’s sure is reflected in her own. She loves moments like these with him – eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe, two equally powerful and combative human beings.</p>
<p>He smiles widely at her. “You don’t want to do this with me.”</p>
<p>“Don’t I?”</p>
<p>“I’m better at it.”</p>
<p>“Are you?”</p>
<p>“You’ll lose.”</p>
<p>“Will I?”</p>
<p>She leans her head to a different side with each question until it finally hits a nerve with him. He lunges forward in his chair, his huge upper body dwarfing the tiny table, and she matches his position so that their pointy noses are practically touching.</p>
<p>“Alright, Britta. Fine. Care to put your money where your dirty whorish mouth is?”</p>
<p>Her eyes light up at the mention of money – God, she has so little of it – and then quickly darken as she points a finger in his face.</p>
<p>“First of all, I’m not a whore. That’s offensive. And second, what are you suggesting?”</p>
<p>She sits back in her chair and folds her arms, chin turned upward, and eyes trained on his. She’s intrigued by where this is going, but also anxious. Does he want to bet on whether or not he’s better looking than that guy? Crap, she shouldn’t have insisted on teasing Jeff about his looks.</p>
<p>“I’m suggesting some healthy competition.” He doesn’t change his position, sitting as if he really wants to share a secret with her. She’s drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and she can’t help but lean in again, to take this opportunity to get as close to him as possible, smell his cologne, memorize the shape of his mouth, ruminate on the exact color of his eyes – is blue/grey/green even a thing? It had been so long since she’d been on <i>this</i> level with him, the moment is surreal, but she’s determined to enjoy it, no matter how short-lived it might inevitably prove to be. “You seem to think you’ve caught some delinquent’s attention,” he continues, “and I know there are plenty of women here tonight who want to sleep with me” (she can’t help but roll her eyes at this, and he ignores it) “so let’s see which of us is right.”</p>
<p>“So, you’re saying…what, exactly? We just walk around and ask people if they’d like to sleep with us and then tally up the results?”</p>
<p>He nods in appreciation at her suggestion. “Something like that. But since some of us are a little more <i>civilized</i>, I’m thinking we get numbers. As many as we can in three hours. We’ll have a flirt-off of sorts.”</p>
<p>She laughs. He’s not serious. He can’t be serious.</p>
<p>“You can’t be serious.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, baby.”</p>
<p>“Well, if you’re going to use Harry Potter references to hit on women, I’m <i>definitely</i> in.”</p>
<p>He huffs in frustration. “Come on, Britta. Are we doing this?”</p>
<p>She studies him closely, his impatience even more palpable than usual. He must <i>really</i> want to hit on some women. This is one of those situations that could be really fun, or it could <i>really</i> blow up in their faces. One of her goals tonight had been to meet somebody, maybe get someone’s number, and Jeff’s little game offers her free range to do just that. On the other hand, does she want to watch him flirt with other women all night long? Does she want to lose a rare night of having him all to herself to some weird competition? Not really. But can she turn down an opportunity to compete with him?</p>
<p>“Well, what are the terms?” She narrows her eyes at him, slowly warming up to the possibility of beating him, but not ready to let him know that just yet.</p>
<p>“Terms?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, <i>lawyer</i>, what do I get when I win?”</p>
<p>“Hm. Well, <i>if</i> you win…” his words trail off as he considers her question. “I will volunteer with you at that animal shelter you’re always going to for the next three Saturdays. To apologize for lying to the group.” He smiles at her, knowing full well that this will be an offer she can’t refuse – they can always use more helping hands at the shelter, especially on the weekends.</p>
<p>Her eyes light up and she smiles wide in glee. She practically squeals with delight, but she doesn’t care.</p>
<p>“Ok, I’m in!” she exclaims.</p>
<p>“Alright, easy, Mother Teresa. That’s only assuming you get more phone numbers than me. Now we have to figure out what I get…”</p>
<p>He stares into her eyes so intensely that she can feel it all the way down to her lower belly. He could demand anything of her right now and she’d give in – partially because of his offer to help all those shelter animals, but mostly because of the way he’s lighting her up with the heat of his gaze. “If I win, you come home with me tonight.”</p>
<p>She would laugh if this wasn’t the hottest moment of her whole damn life.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You heard me.”</p>
<p>“So, after we spend the whole night getting other people’s numbers, if you get more than me, you want to spend the rest of the night…<i>with</i> me?”</p>
<p>“That pretty much sums it up, yes.”</p>
<p>“Jeff…why?”</p>
<p>He looks frustrated and amused by her at the same time. She must be missing something here, but she can’t fathom what it is. “Because, Britta, you’re beautiful and I miss being with you. And because you’re the only one who knew I was lying today. And because no matter how many women in this bar might want to sleep with me, and I <i>know</i> there are many, the only one I care about is you. Good?”</p>
<p>She can only nod, stunned into silence.</p>
<p>“So, if you win, animal shelter, and if I win, we spend the night together. Deal?”</p>
<p>He holds his hand out for her to shake, and Britta can feel her cheeks get hot, so she looks away. She hates when her body and hormones betray her like this – they’re supposed to be one with her, damnit. Jeff looks completely non-plussed and she looks like she just got the wind knocked out of her. Which she basically did. </p>
<p>Such a classic Jeff Winger move. She shouldn’t be falling for this. She’s not naïve. She’s a grown ass woman. She knows he’s just embarrassed about being called out today and probably horny and she’s the easiest option available to him. So, even though she knows all of this, why is she responding this way, with this…<i>need</i>? Why then, when she knows that there is nothing more serious between them than just some fleeting sparks of electricity, is her whole body going numb and her heart beating so fast she thinks she might pass out?</p>
<p>She doesn’t know the answer to any of these questions – she barely knows her own name right now – but she knows she wants him, wants this. So, she musters up her courage and shakes his hand.</p>
<p>“Alright. Deal. Check in with each other at the bar at 11:30?”</p>
<p>For a fleeting moment, he looks surprised that she’s agreed to his terms, but that look quickly turns into one of delight when he holds onto her hand for a second too long.</p>
<p>After finally releasing her, Jeff pushes his chair back and rises from the table, nodding. “Well, Britta,” he says, standing right in front of her and towering over her with his ridiculous height, “may the best man win.”</p>
<p>She stands to meet him, her eyes staring upward into his and she thinks about ending all of this right now by asking that he just take her home now instead and kissing him in his car like a teenager, but she knows she can’t. The cats at Foothills Animal Shelter deserve her best effort – and, if she kisses him now, she’s not sure she’ll ever stop. Instead, she prepares for battle. What else can she do?</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t worry,” she smirks, “she will.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. ...Ever Known</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So this gets maybe a little mushy for them, but you know what? I would give anything for more real moments between them that aren't eventually played off as jokes. Hope it's enjoyable!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ok, so admittedly, the best woman was <i>not</i> winning. She wished she could say she spent the whole night talking to guys and getting number after number. She tried. She really did. The thought of Jeff cleaning cages and walking dogs and feeding cats was too appealing to not give it a go. So, she definitely spoke to a lot of guys. Some guys. Fine, two guys. And she did get both of their numbers, which felt great and also a little dirty, just like she liked it, but that was it. Because, full disclosure, she’d spent most of the night tracking Jeff. He was just so damn distracting. She watched him saunter from table to table, group of women to group of women, making them all flip their hair with laughter, practically gagging to herself as she watched them graze his arm with their feminine fingers and stare too long into his ocean blue eyes. She watched as he leaned down onto tables, inserting his body into their personal space, but not in that creepy way that some guys do it – in that hot way that makes a woman feel a little wild but completely in control at the same time. At least, that’s how she’d always felt when he’d done it to her.</p>
<p>She had to give him credit, the man <i>could</i> charm the pants off the ladies, alright. She knew. Firsthand. There was a time when she’d been on the receiving end of helping after helping of the Winger charm, and she’d been able to deflect it, <i>most</i> of the time. That’s what Jeff needed after all, an adversary, a challenge, not a giggly yes-woman fawning over his every move. But every once in a while, he <i>was</i> able to sneak through her walls and when he did, he’d make himself at home. He’d settle in for quite a bit, thoughts of him would linger, she’d even daydream about his touch, until finally she’d muster the strength to force him out, only to have him slowly but surely work his way back in again. That had been their cycle, but it hadn’t been their thing lately, not since they’d stopped sleeping together secretly. They still had their moments, sure. They’d never changed their seats at the study room table, so they still shared glances and moments and asides as much as possible, but the intensity of his stares, the power of his words, the heat of his touch? She hadn’t felt those for months – until tonight. Watching him flirt with other women was giving her all kinds of feelings, and while none were necessarily unpleasant, they were all certainly unwelcome.</p>
<p>It's almost time for their check-in, so she takes a seat at the bar, finishing her fourth vodka. This one had been paid for by the loud-talking Kevin, the second guy whose number she’d gotten tonight. The first had been Pete the plumber, a very nice guy with a slight lisp and a “Yes We Can” pin attached to his lapel, the reason she approached him in the first place. She relishes in the smooth feel of the vodka coating her throat and signals Gavin for one more as she waits for Jeff to come over.</p>
<p>She steels herself to prepare for the look of superiority he’ll inevitably give her when he announces his victory, but she can’t fault him for it this time. She’s sure he’s won tonight. She saw maybe four women take his phone into their own hands, assumedly to enter their information into his contacts. She even saw one woman write it on his hand, old-school. So, that was at least five. The amount didn’t matter, though. What mattered was what all this meant for <i>them</i> – he’d won the bet and she’d be going home with him tonight as he’d requested. But was she ready for that and all it would entail? I mean, physically, she was more than ready. She’d been looking for company anyway, and, while she likes to joke with him about his sexual prowess, Jeff and she had been together already so many times before, he was as in tune with her body as she was. He knew what she liked, what she didn’t like, what made her laugh, what drove her crazy, and she knew the same for him. The night would be pleasant and comfortable, to say the least. </p>
<p>But what about emotionally? She might still be new to her Intro to Human Psych class, but she was evolved enough as a woman to know that she didn’t have friends-only feelings for Jeff. There would always be something between them, something confusing and comforting and electrifying and infuriating, but something, nonetheless. What would this night mean for her feelings? Would she be able to toss everything aside in the morning? Or would this inspire them to start up their illicit trysts all over again? And did she want that? It had been exciting and fun last year, but did she want to continue to be someone who was kept a secret? If they were going to do this, shouldn’t they be able to do this for real, no games, no hiding, no bullshit? </p>
<p>She shakes her head and takes a big gulp of her drink to clear her head. All of her questions were moot anyway if Jeff wasn’t thinking the same about any of this. What he’d said before was surprising, and lovely, but he could just want to be with her tonight and then never speak about it again – maybe his purpose was to give them a sense of closure, to get to say one last goodbye in the most satisfying way possible. When the group found out about them last year, they ended things so abruptly, neither of them was really afforded that. It would be nice to be together one last time and go out on their own terms.</p>
<p>Comforted by that final thought and her own determination to enjoy herself (and probably all the alcohol coursing through her system), she searches the room for Jeff. She sees him, standing on the other side of the bar, but he doesn’t notice her. She watches him for a moment, a small smile forming on her lips, enjoying seeing him in his natural state. His eyes are glued to his phone as his fingers deftly scroll through, most likely tallying up his conquests. She begins to approach him, ready to congratulate him on his victory, but the look on his face stops her suddenly. He doesn’t look smug or happy at all; he looks…conflicted. His brow is furrowed, and his mouth is turned down in a pensive frown. He shakes his head and slips his phone into his pocket as his eyes scan the crowd, likely looking for her. She gives him a quick wave and weaves among the tightly-packed bodies of patrons until they are finally standing right in front of each other.</p>
<p>“Well, let me have it, Winger,” she says, feeling a little lightheaded, both from the drinks and her close proximity to him.</p>
<p>“Let you <i>have</i> it? We’re still in public, Britta. At least wait until we’re in the car.”</p>
<p>After spending all night flirting with strangers, she can’t help but enjoy the fact that he’s still flirting with her.</p>
<p>“I’m guessing that means you won, then.”</p>
<p>His eyes flit quickly to the ground and then back up into hers, his expression unreadable.</p>
<p>“Well, what about you? How did you do?” he asks.</p>
<p>She considers lying – she’s sure there’s guy’s numbers in her phone she could pass off as fresh from tonight, but there’s no honor in that. Plus, they’re standing so close that she keeps bumping him with her knee and the edges of her leather jacket keep connecting with the front of his shirt and she doesn’t think she can fight the urge to touch his face much longer. And just like that, she decides – she <i>wants</i> him to win this bet. For all the reasons he said before that she feels, too. Because he’s beautiful and she misses him. And because she can read him like a favorite book – why <i>was</i> she the only one who knew he was lying today? Surely, that had to mean something. And, finally, because out of all the men in this bar, the only one who mattered even one iota to her was standing right in front of her, looking into her eyes, smiling at her, right now. She’ll do right by the animals – she already goes to the shelter every Saturday, but she’ll add on Sundays too for the next three weeks, just to make it up to them for losing and depriving the animals of his time and companionship. She wants the animals to get the love they need. But tonight, it’s time to tend to her <i>own</i> needs, and what Britta needs right now is some alone time with Jeff.</p>
<p>She smirks at him. “Nah, I didn’t have it tonight. Just two numbers.” She holds up two fingers in front of his face and uses one of those fingers to graze his bottom lip, the excitement of what’s about to happen between them surging through her veins.</p>
<p>He narrows his eyes at her, skeptical. “There’s no way that’s possible.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for the compliment.”</p>
<p>“I’m serious.”</p>
<p>“So am I. Two numbers.” She shrugs, not upset about it. “It is what it is. You?”</p>
<p>His eyes search hers – she doesn’t know if he’ll find the answers he’s looking for in them, mainly because she can’t decipher the questions.</p>
<p>“Guess we both had an off night. I only got one.”</p>
<p>He holds out his palm, showing her where the woman she saw earlier wrote her number.</p>
<p>She looks at him, mouth agape. He’s lying, but she doesn’t know why.</p>
<p>“Wait, what’s going on?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, maybe I’m not as attractive as I thought.” A moment passes, and they both look at each other and laugh, his handsomeness undeniable. “But, really, that’s all I got. Katrina.” He rolls his eyes as he says her name.</p>
<p>Just when she thought she was starting to figure Jeff out, just when she thought she had his moves and tricks down to a science, he goes and does something like this, something so out of left field, it throws her for a complete loop. She is stunned into silence again tonight, unsure of what her next move should be. Does she call him out on his lie <i>again</i>? Isn’t that what got them into this mess in the first place, her demanding he be open and honest? Or is there a reason for his dishonesty – maybe he’s having second thoughts about them spending the night together? That would be the way, just as she was really coming around to the idea, body <i>and</i> mind, he changes his. Well, you know what? She deserves honesty, even if it hurts.</p>
<p>“You’re lying.”</p>
<p>“What?” His eyes widen in surprise, and he steps an inch closer to her, if that was even possible in this suffocating space.</p>
<p>“Jeff, I saw you hand your phone to tons of women. There’s no way you only got one number tonight. You’re lying to me. <i>Again</i>.”</p>
<p>The more she reflects on what he’s doing, her body practically vibrates with anger. How could he not respect her enough by now to just tell her if he was having second thoughts?</p>
<p>“You were <i>watching</i> me?”</p>
<p>She hadn’t meant to reveal that. Oh, he gets her all turned around. “That’s not relevant.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I think it very much is.”</p>
<p>“So I watched you talk to some women. So what?”</p>
<p>“So, you <i>want</i> me.”</p>
<p>She scoffs. “Get over yourself, Jeff. I was just scoping out the competition. That’s not the same thing as <i>wanting</i> you.”</p>
<p>“It is so the same thing, trust me.”</p>
<p>God, she wanted him. But she also wanted to kill him. How can someone make you feel such extremes?</p>
<p>“How could I <i>ever</i> trust you? All you’re doing is being dishonest with me. I deserve the truth, Jeff. First you tell me you don’t even want to come here, then you do. Then, you talk me into making this insane bet with you about getting numbers just so you can <i>sleep</i> with me, and now, you’re lying to get <i>out</i> of sleeping with me? What is the deal?”</p>
<p>He shrugs his shoulders at her. “I love animals?”</p>
<p>She groans in frustration and has to physically wring her hands together so that she doesn’t slap him across the face. That would feel <i>so</i> good right now, but she does not support violence of any kind – no matter how deserved it may be.</p>
<p>“Ok, you know what? I can’t do this.” She shakes her head at him and starts pushing past people to get out of the bar. She can hear him call to her as she rushes out, but she doesn’t look back. She needs to get outside. She needs space. She needs to breathe. She needs to be somewhere where she’s not surrounded and engulfed by Jeff Winger.</p>
<p>As soon as she pushes open the heavy door of The Rusty Bucket, she leans against the wall on the side of the entrance, taking in gulping breaths of the fresh evening air. Before she has the opportunity to fully recover though, he’s there, in front of her, saying her name in his gruff way.</p>
<p>“Britta. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Pipe it. I’m done with this whole night. I’m going home.” She starts rifling through her messy purse, looking for her car keys.</p>
<p>He puts his right hand onto the wall next to the left side of her face, essentially locking her in place. “You can’t drive.”</p>
<p>“You don’t get to tell me what I can’t do.”</p>
<p>“Britta, you’ve had five drinks tonight. You’re not driving home.”</p>
<p>His words stop her short. “How do you know how many drinks I’ve had? Were you <i>watching</i> me, Jeff?”</p>
<p>He sighs. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“And you counted my drinks?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“So you knew how many guys I talked to?”</p>
<p>“This is getting repetitive, but, yes.”</p>
<p>“And you knew you won the bet?”</p>
<p>He sighs again, and nods at her.</p>
<p>“But you pretended you didn’t?” She’s asking the questions more to herself than to him at this point, but he nods in response anyway. “Sheesh, I have <i>not</i> taken enough Psych classes for this.” She looks at him, not concerned with the desperation she’s sure is in her eyes. “Jeff, tell me what’s going on.” She’s proud of the conviction she can hear in her voice, when really all she wants to do is curl up into someone’s arms right now. The problem is, the one person she really wants to be comforted by is the person making her so upset.</p>
<p>Jeff leans down closer to her and she thinks for a moment that he is going to kiss her, which is so confusing it would make perfect sense given the strange nature of this evening. He doesn’t though. Instead, he leans his forehead against hers – a gesture that is somehow even more intimate.</p>
<p>He’s completely silent, and she lets him rest his head there for a moment, both of their eyes and mouths closed for once. Part of her wants to just stay like this with him forever, but more than that, she wants answers.</p>
<p>“Jeff, what’s going on?” she asks, but doesn’t open her eyes.</p>
<p>He sighs again, and reluctantly pulls his head away from hers, repositioning himself next to her on the wall, his legs further out so they can be eye-to-eye.</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>It’s almost like his eyes are pleading with her to let this go, and she wants to, wants to just chalk it up to a weird night between two kind-of-friends, but she can’t.</p>
<p>“Try.”</p>
<p>He nods at her again and looks down at his feet as he begins to explain.</p>
<p>“I <i>really</i> don’t know. That <i>is</i> the truth. It just really got to me today when you knew I was lying. It was…hot.” He chuckles softly, still not meeting her eyes. “But it always is. I have so much fun fighting with you, Britta. And I still think about you, being with you, all the time. So I thought it would be fun to do this competitive thing with you tonight, convince you to be with me. But then it all got too real and I realized that I don’t want to have to trick you into sleeping with me. That’s gross. And manipulative. And I don’t want to be that guy anymore. Not with you. So I decided I would tell you I lost. But then you said…you were <i>watching</i> me.”</p>
<p>His eyes finally meet hers and he gives her the tiniest smile, an almost imperceptible glint of hope in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Jeff…”</p>
<p>She’s going to say something. She really is. They need to talk, to hash this out, to really get to the bottom of what it all means. But sometimes, don’t you just get tired of talking? Because Britta does. She is a woman of action – at least, she wants to be. Sometimes, the best way to explain yourself is by doing, not saying. So, she grabs Jeff’s face and kisses him – hard, harder than she’s ever kissed anyone in her life. And before she can really fathom what’s going on, he’s kissing her back, hungrily, his hands running through her hair. It’s as if they’re breathing each other in, reinvigorating each other with each touch. He picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist and they’re just all hands and mouths and moans, each reveling in making the other feel desired and satisfied. Demanding to be even closer to him, she tightens her legs around his waist so that her chest is flush with his and she’s not sure if she’s feeling his heart beating or her own. When they finally break apart from each other, their lips are red and swollen and their eyes hazy with lust as they catch their breath together.</p>
<p>“I <i>knew</i> you wanted me,” he says, and smirks at her.</p>
<p>“<i>You’re</i> the worst.” She can barely get the words out before he’s kissing her again, softer this time. Their first kiss had been all passion and fire, but this one was rife with longing, need. It made her knees weak and her heart flutter. This kiss was like finally taking a sip of wine after a long day at work. This kiss was coming home.</p>
<p>“Jeff,” she whispers in his ear as he sucks on a particularly tender spot on her neck.</p>
<p>“Hm?” He acknowledges her with a grunt, but doesn’t stop kissing her, and it’s almost as if he can’t. It’s like their bodies are magnets, attracting with a force that cannot be denied.</p>
<p>“You won the bet.”</p>
<p>“I know,” he says, into her skin.</p>
<p>“So then take me home.”</p>
<p>He looks at her now. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes at his sudden need to check in. “Yes, you ass.”</p>
<p>He laughs and she reluctantly unclasps her legs from around his waist. He places her back down on the ground gently. Her legs are like jelly, and she has to hold onto his arms to steady herself. He locks his two index fingers into the belt loops on either side of her jeans and pulls her in close for one last, deep kiss.</p>
<p>She readjusts her clothing as they walk to his car, shoulders bumping the whole way. He opens the passenger side door for her, and she looks at him before climbing into the car. “Are we going to talk about what any of this means, Winger?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” he says, kissing her softly on the lips. “Tomorrow. Or next Saturday. At the animal shelter.”</p>
<p>He gets into the driver’s seat as she puts on her seat belt and they stare at each other again, smiling.</p>
<p>“So, you’re still going to volunteer with me at the animal shelter even though I lost?”</p>
<p>“Sure. I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday,” he says, starting the car.</p>
<p>“Neither can I,” she says, and they drive off into the night, together.</p>
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